


Healing Hands

by Shareece (kimbob)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbob/pseuds/Shareece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was her hands that healed him. In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Before**

Brienne watched worriedly as Jaime thrashed against the pillows, moaning to himself. She watched Qyburn closely as he moved to inspect Jaime’s wound. Jaime had spoken to her quietly of his mistrust of the Maester. “What are you doing?” She asked for the fourth time.

Qyburn sighed as he applied more bandages around his stump. “He is having a fever dream. I’m to give him something to sleep more soundly.“

“No.” Brienne cut in. She dipped a cloth into the basin of water she’d collected. “Leave us.” She ordered.

Qyburn chuckled as he moved to exit the small room. “It’s no wonder he returned for you.” He turned to go and Brienne made sure to offer her deadliest glare as he did.

She turned her gaze back to Jaime as he began to moan and thrash his head even harder against the threadbare pillow. She wrung out the excess water from the cloth and gently placed it onto his forehead, dabbing away the sweat.

“No—Don’t.” Jaime moaned.

“Shh,” Brienne murmured as she gently reached for his left hand, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” She watched as he slowly quieted down. She started in surprise as Jaime’s eyes fluttered open and he squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

**After Before**

Jaime watched as Brienne tended to Pod’s wounds before making sure the young man was well rested on his bedroll. He tossed a log onto the fire. “Will you tend to my wounds as well?” He asked quietly, watching with deep satisfaction as Brienne jumped, startled from the sound of his voice in the sudden silence.

He hadn’t uttered a single word to her since their run-in with Lady Stoneheart and the brotherhood without banners. His forehead was bleeding, his left eye nearly swollen shut. The taste of betrayal still tasted bitter on his tongue, but given the way the Wench obviously cared for poor Podrick, he could say he understood her choice to lead him to his death. Despite this knowledge, the anger and frustration still rose deep from within. The knowledge of what she did caused his chest to ache in an unbearable way. “Are you going to answer me?” He asked acidly.

Brienne nodded mutely, reaching for her water skin and a piece of cloth. She slowly made her way toward him and kneeled down in front of him and began to gently clean the cut on his forehead.

Jaime watched her through his uninjured eye, noticing for the first time the rope burn marks around her throat. He tried to catch her gaze, but she kept gaze steady on tending to the cut on his forehead. “What did they do to you?” He asked quietly.

Brienne tensed from his words. She shook her head as she poured more water onto the cloth. “It matters not.” She said, wiping away the blood.

He frowned. “It matters.” He hissed as she wiped a particularly painful spot.

She frowned with worry. “My apologies.” She muttered, ignoring the way he watched her. She continued to wipe away the blood and the more he stared at the rope burns, the angrier he became.

“It matters.” He repeated harshly. How could she not see this? How could she think her life didn’t matter? After all of her sacrifices—why did he send her out on her own? “Brienne-“ He trailed off and reached for the hand that tended to him. It was trembling he realized and the rest of the anger he’d felt about her lying to him dissipated. “It matters.” He whispered softly.

Brienne lifted her chin. “I would not have let them kill you.”

“Then you’re more foolish than I thought.” He replied, unsurprised by the glare she gave him.

Brienne snatched her hand out of his. “Do not mock me.” She hissed angrily.

“I wasn’t.” He murmured, reaching for her hand again. They were rough; calloused from handling a sword, but delicate in a way that reminded him of the gentleness she’s shown him time and again. It was odd to him how these same hands can kill so viciously. That same ache in his chest fluttered to life with the thought of her kindness. How can someone be so selfless? He again wondered how he could send her off on her own. Jaime lifted her hand and placed it against the side of his face.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked quietly.

He sighed heavily, all of a sudden drained with the aftermath of so much killing. “I’ll not send you off alone again, wench.” He tightened his hold on her hand as she gently attempted to extract it.

“Just, let me feel this.”

 

**Before Now**

“Hold me tighter wench, it’s freezing in this empty wasteland.”

Brienne’s fingers carded through Jaime’s damp hair as he shuddered against her. “It was quite foolish of you to accept Ser Hyle’s ridiculous challenge.”

Ser Hyle had goaded Jaime into a challenge of who could withstand the freezing waters of North. Jaime, being the stubborn fool that he is of course accepted the challenge. Both men had stood naked in the freezing water, Jaime staying in longer than Hyle anticipated due to his strong ability to be stubborn as well his strong need never to be bested.

Jaime shook his head as his teeth chattered. “He still seeks to impress you despite knowing you warm my bed each night. He must know I’m simply better than he is.”

Brienne rolled her eyes while simultaneously flushing from his words. “By standing in a freezing lake?”

Jaime shuddered her warm hand caressed down his bare chest “Precisely.”

“That was very foolish Jaime.” Brienne admonished again, still her hands continued their healing path of warming him up.

“Not foolish.” He disagreed with a sigh. He was beginning to drift off. Already her steady hands warmed him; healed him as they always did. “Don’t you know I’d practically do anything to feel these hands against my skin?” The faint brush of her lips on his forehead was the last thing he felt as he drifted off completely.

  
**Now**

The Maester said she was in distress.

“Do you think Ser Lady will be alright?” Pod asked quietly.

Jaime said nothing. He could say nothing as he paced the small hall near her birthing chamber. Brienne had since stopped her screams of pain; the silence that followed causing Jaime’s mind to conjure up every horrible outcome.

“Ser Jaime?” Podrick said quietly.

Jaime glared at the young man, the rage in his expression caused Podrick to shrink back into his seat. “My apologies.” The young boy said quietly.

Jaime sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat he could already see Brienne’s disapproving gaze because of his treatment of the boy. “No need for apologies Pod.” Just as he said the words, loud cries came from the birthing chamber. Jaime’s eyes widened and he burst into the room, pausing in shock at the sight before him.

Brienne sat, propped up against pillows, pale, but alive. In her arms she held—“Wench?”

Brienne gave him a wane smile. “Come and hold your son.”

Her voice broke his shock and he moved quickly toward them, sitting beside her. He gently reached for their son, smiling as blue eyes blinked up at him. “Are you alright Wench?”

Brienne didn’t answer, just reached for his hand and squeezed.

END


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